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court-jobi · 2 days ago

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hi! i love your works so much!!! i was wondering if i could request a hawks x pop princess f! reader?

like he does security for her groups concert and hes like “pffft im number 2 why do i need to be here”. then he watches her during sound check and is like okay i need to know more about her. so while shes getting ready hes just hovering backstage trying to talk to her. after the show she finally gives him her number (def against her companies wishes) and hes like trying to be suave and flirty and shes like “oh my god why is this working”. just a lot of hawks being a lover boy and sending gifts to her company anonymously and cutesy stuff like that lol. they have to keep their relationship a secret bc her company has a very strict no dating unless we agree rule. can be pre or post war hawks btw! you can take this wherever you want with it as well! can be nsfw or not.

im sorry that was so long! i was trying to make sure my thoughts were coherent lol.

Ooooo I love this idea so much, what a lovely dynamic to picture: a fanboy Hawks for a change, perhaps?? ~ this was a fun one to work on! @strwbrrykthv i sure hope this one was worth the wait and that I've done it justice!

You all are seriously the best readers a gal could ask for, and these requests are ✨giving me life✨~ Keep 'em coming!!

Who Has the Mic

Words: 4.3k

Rating: T

Warnings: Pro Hero!Hawks x popstar fem!reader, forbidden romance, flirting, mostly FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical threats, protective instincts, Hawks is a little shitTM, we love him your honor

for my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Hawks falls prey to a special thrill out of extending favors to others.

‘I owe ya one’-- such a simple nicety that in the beginning, he doubts anyone would truly come to collect on it. It makes him sound agreeable, charming, starved for connection even before the height of his inevitable fame.

Then he rose and rose in the hero rankings, securing himself into the very visible and wildly popular top spot, in terms of viewer popularity.

It’s now that the redemptions of Hawks’ pro-hero favors have come rolling in… The unexpected keeps him on his toes and entertains him for the most part; and if it’s all for the sake of protecting others, then why not have a little fun with it?

Once upon an overbearing press conference, back when he was first tiptoeing into the public scene… Hawks begged a makeup artist on staff for a spot to hide out in the green room and sneak a snack or two (or ten). He was granted pity for a teenager expected to take a seat at the table of an albeit boring Commission presentation. Well, it seems that particular makeup-artist rose within the talent realm themselves, and ended up reaching out to “that flyboy kid” back for a surprising accommodation:

Top tier talent warrants top tier security.

Hawks takes a call at his agency and soon finds himself ushered in for the Tokyo opener of the reigning top-of-the-charts pop star with a voice of gold. The first meeting of old acquaintances led the Pro-Hero to tour the brand new, sky-high facilities, then return for the load-in day of the stage. Again for first dress, and each night of the week-long residency.

He carries his presence on the stealthier side, far above the stage floor in the scaffolding. Up here, lights are rigged with steel supports running every which way, where he executes perfect balance while walking in a straight line atop them. He’s checked -double and triple- that each outlet is free from hazard, each line of multi-ton equipment has been secured and safe, so that even his ‘adventuring’ from up high is not a risk.

He’s happy for the variety of work he faces as a hero- but right now, he’s bored. He shouldn't be feeling so dreadful, especially on the job, but he is. It’s not his style to be so down, after all. But Hawks has checked into every nook and cranny of this place and for the sake of an understandably hypervigilant security team, has an eye for which points of entry and exit could use a bird’s eye view come showtime.

His muscles are used to far more fast-paced antics and time-sensitive chases; not traipsing around like a literal vulture ready to swoop in at any moment. Surely he’s needed elsewhere.

But the threats have been rolling in… as they do for all of these larger-than-life musician types who found their way into the spotlight. They’re at risk of going in blind if they don’t have a good team around them to help them see.

So here he is, playing guardian angel to do his part and make sure all goes smoothly. It's a big operation by his count; there’s sixty members on the tech roster, plus the venue stage manager and their contracted staff, then all performers, and of course the headliner. Now where she is, he’d like to know– for not so selfless reasons.

He’d know her music by heart, given how much of an earworm and personal anthem her songs have become for him. It’s rare that the tables are turned, where Hawks is the fanboy and someone else is the idol. That dream is his dangling carrot for completing this mission successfully: he has the most sought-after bodyguard duty in the nation, and as good as a front row seat to her show.

Yet in a weird sense, Hawks also kinda hopes he never meets her. Doesn’t want to crush that bubble, ruin the allusion of the woman he’s got set as his ringtone.

So, he just runs his headcounts on all bodies supposed to be present at the top-of-show meeting to busy his mind. All is in order. ‘Cues’ are rounding up the pre-show acts, each in plainclothes for this rough stumble-through. Still doesn’t see the little starlet yet, and he gets the residual feeling that this might be typical behavior of ‘the talent’ to show up whenever she damn well pleases.

Though funnily enough, he spots a pretty thing down there sporting some Hawks merch! Always nice to see a supportive fan in the most unlikely places…

It's a well-fitting quarterzip sporting his red feather blades down each arm, an item he vaguely recognizes from this season’s newest launch. She’s got headphones on and subtly bopping about in her own little world, perhaps running through tonight’s set under her breath, if her self-contained taps of the fingers are an indication of her keeping beat.

Hawks’ curious attention to that girl on the fringes of the stage is pulled when he hears the strict timbre of the stage director he’d met on day one take center stage.

“Ok, time to rein it in. As we covered in the email from Sec-Eng- which I’m assuming you gen-z’ers have read,” the bossman snarks to the younger members of this crew down below, “we’ve got some additional eyes in the sky pulling security for this leg in the tour. So, I want to give you all a chance to get your excitement out -along with your thanks- to our equally chart-topping hero, Hawks~ who’s… somewhere around here.”

Hoodie girl blanched– as if she’d been told she’d need to share her internet history to her grandmother. Immediately, she tosses off her headset and starts frantically stripping herself of the jacket she wore. While enthusiastic heads all fly around in every direction in search of the hero, Hawks chuckles at the sight of her alone.

“...//Well, he’s probably checking the perimeters anyway//. How bout we all just send a big thank-you, eh?”

The couple of ‘Hoodie’s fellow dancers were poking fun at her -poor thing still flushed and clammed up- while the group gave a loud, singsongy ‘thank you!!’ up to the stage doors, assuming the Pro-Hero might be busting in, grand entrance fashion on command. The love-laden response from the dancers makes Hawks roll his eyes lightly, but he appreciates their praise all the same.

They giggle about in jazzed excitement with one’s voice carried out squealish and feminine, despite their professional assembly,

“Oh my god, you must be in HEAVEN!! He’s gonna be watching you ALL NIGHT!”

‘Hoodie’ looks downright mortified. The others have seemed to gather around spouting nothing but encouragement to this little fan girl who's doing her best to put on a poker face. Adorable.

“Now we also need to make some edits before the crew breaks for lunch, everyone, so we are gonna start today with opening of Set 5 instead- hold.. Hold on… WHO HAS THE GOD MIC??”

The mics table scrambles for the one handheld microphone with omniscient audio range to the house. Surely it's the one thing they wouldn't lose and should hand straight to the Stage Manager, right?

Well, said mic was sitting unattended there on the cart earlier… all for the Winged Hero’s taking when he was making his preliminary sweep earlier.

From his inner jacket pocket, Hawks catches his lip in his teeth as he remembers where to turn the thing on. Once his throat cleared and the mic blinks red in sync with the soundboard, he amplifies a little trademark bird whistle: for each and every soul in sight to hear.

The stage erupts in excitement, as planned. ‘Hoodie’ immediately teeters over to one of the props hideaways and stows said jacket away.

Hawks chuckles with the mic at chest level– only to call her out from his perch,

“Saw that, dear~”

Seems logic caught up with the poor thing, as she -finally- pieced together the true vantage point of her idol’s presence, and looked up.

Sparing her too much embarrassment, Hawks simply cocked his head on a folded up fist and gave a little wave of some fingers to her.

Despite her clear shock and surprise, she did smile brilliantly back and gave a little signed ‘thank you for being here’ rather than a scream like all the others.

The stage manager followed her line of sight to where the hero stands in wait, ready to dismount and return his bit of cheekily stolen equipment. Despite some bewildered aggravation to Hawks’ antics, he gestures with the exhaustion of a high school teacher.

“There now, see kids? That's how you protect your voices before a show!! Better than belting your way to the doctor’s office. Our star here sure leads by example now doesn't she–”

In rare form for the hero, it's Hawks’ turn to be stunned. His fangirl: it’s you.

Everyone else may be calling that first call time your lucky day… but you were intimidated to the point of feeling ill. Thank goodness for your poker face; because locking eyes with Hawks’ stunning crimson canopy and giving you that wink and a grin about sent you into a heart attack.

You're starstruck. The absolute heartthrob of an idol you revere as your favorite Pro-Hero has been standing over 150 meters above your head, watching for every sign of danger that could threaten you for the last week.

That near guarantee of safety would trump your fleeting nerves– if you hadn’t given the first impression of a closeted fangirl like you did!!

Nothing short of awe crossed your mind when you so much as think of the hero. A very vocal fan whenever he came up in the news or your social feed amongst your inner circle. Hawks is a household name for you, who you were incredibly fond of… both in how he handled massive crowds or charmed in intimate, one-on-one interviews.

You know the role; you suck up for cameras, too, as it's all in the optics. But for every PR-guided response you know is crafted by easy-going smiles or a disarming tone, you remember to see past the spectacle of Hawks and look for ‘him’. Remove the wings and hero getup: who is he? Can you spot the tells on camera like your mom can when she watches you? No matter how big of a global phenomenon her baby girl gets, she can still tell when you have a headache while having to give an appearance on a talk show.

The man you spot on screen has to have a series of faults and slips. Even battle-ready heroes put their shoes on one at a time– just like everyone else. He’s sure to have a favorite lunch spot, a favorite pen to use for autographs, a favorite singer, even…

Surely not you, but a girl can dream.

There’s a glazed-over glint in Hawks’ eyes when he very subtly checks out when being spoken to which gives you the strong suspicion you two may not be so unalike. And that list of little mannerisms has grown exponentially– with every day that's passed:

Hawks has difficulty staying still, you've learned. He’s also much younger than people assume. Carries a crafty habit of popping up unexpectedly in a way that’s youthful– and borderline cheeky. From atop a stack of amps, to a crowdless green room, to the rigging of lights where you've stunned the crowds for the last four nights, he’s perched out of sight from your thousands of fans.

Though each little comment thrown here and there in praise has floated down to your ears in sweet jest, things come to a head when the last night of your show arrived: where the crushing realization sought to dampen your mood.

After tonight, you wouldn’t have your angelic, crimson-winged shadow anymore.

But Hawks surprises you once again.

You nearly miss it, too, once your final round of ‘surprise songs’ is revealed and you are snuck down to your assigned hideout to get ready to leave the venue. It’s back in your can-lit dressing room that you’re making double takes down the hall looking for any sign of your security team; especially the one to whom you owe a hefty ‘thank you’ to for all his efforts.

-but as your half-redressed form has donned your beloved Hawks hoodie once more, you’re not so spooked to hear a familiar whistle from behind you this time.

Headphones slung back down around his neck and wings slimmed down to a more presentable manner for tight hallways like these, Hawks slips into your prep space with a speedy uptick of steps. A knowing whisper to ‘shut the door fast so no one notices’ eeks out of him, eliciting a smile from you.

Each one of your suspicions are confirmed with that one comment alone; he knows this game well. Still, playing along with his dance of keep-away from any prying eyes (or cameras) doesn’t mean your heart isn’t hammering away in your chest at the knowledge of getting your hero all to yourself.

So here, Hawks traipses around your makeshift room with unbidden interest– which, for such a small space, is cute to know how many little details pique his curiosity. Your various outfits still hang all facing the correct way, your personal backpack sits beside it on the end featuring your mess of pins and collected patches from the locations you’ve toured thus far. The run schedule is still taped on the wall, and below it, your laptop has your notation software open and idle onscreen.

“Well, now,” Hawks chimes in with a little crouch over the back of your empty chair, “Surely I’m not looking at our next chart-topping hit in the making, am I?”

“Maybe!” you chuckle, joining his side to quickly save your work before you forget. “It’s getting the lyrics and melody to marry right that’s the hard part. Working out the latter right now, and it’s kinda kicking my butt.”

“But you’re doing it! Look at all this– wait. Is this what you were dancing to earlier?”

Damn his powers of observation. You’d been testing out the rhythm of the hook this week– when you’d been caught under his attention.

“...M-maybe?” you hedge again.

“I knew it-” Hawks beamed, “A stunning starlet and a mastermind. What can’t you do?”

Flattered beyond belief, you answer honestly,

“Keep myself outta trouble with my managers. Trying to, at least,” you close the laptop to conserve its power, “but between the shows and speaking engagements, it’s left me a bit starved for time to actually make the music.”

“N’why would writing get you in trouble?”

“It takes me away from all the other things I ‘have to do’,” you sigh easily. “They can bring in anyone to make the music and keep pitching songwriting teams to me to take the load off. Just think something’s gotten a little out of balance.”

Without meaning to, you held Hawks’ attention– enough to make him sit back on the armrest of your couch and listen with undivided attention while you explained your creative process more. While most J-Pop performers would be thrilled to have outside writers create the work and easy into a performance schedule with pre-set work to learn, you loved to have a hand in the writing process too. As an art form, it’s personal when you have to perform season after season.

You’ve chatted quite a bit here and there over these last several days, though not this extensively. He was interested in so much about this whole operation, to the point where you wondered if he’d ever met any of the performers who you knew presented at some of those hero galas he went to. Apparently not, by the way he’d lock onto your every word when you spoke. Either your timekeepers (or his) would inevitably interrupt you, so back to work you two would fly off to.. though you’d seem to circle back to one another and chat about anything and everything if given the chance- little spurts of talk that always left you wanting more.

He’d commiserate with you on that front as well– the balance of stardom and freedom. Bogged down by meetings and public appearances wore on him just as much as you. With every roadblock you described about your recent album development, Hawks nodded along with expected understanding.

The revolving issue of personal safety might have brought him into your employ, but you know more and more cases like yours filled up his day-to-day life in ways you couldn’t imagine… but he even shed some light on that as well to you. He’d burst the bubble on hero work as an industry through little asides with you offstage: comments he’d likely get reprimanded for if he ever spoke them in a public statement.

But you’d keep his secrets safe. What happens on set stays on set.

So even now, as he’s tucked himself into your dressing room while you puttered around chatting about your true dreams of getting a new concept album wrapped by the end of the year, Hawks tuned in with genuine interest that only made your heart skip a beat for him more.

“I haven’t always gotten the time to work on it lately… though this week, I’ve had a clearer head to be in here rather than under lock and key with a security force breathing down my neck– which is largely thanks to you, Mr. Hawks.”

“Oh please,” Hawks scrunches his nose and teases, “Mr. Hawks is what the lawyers call me. Just Hawks is fine!”

You exhale, squishing back any girlish outburst from your voice at how fussy he looked.

“All the same, thank you for your help this week,” you pressed, “It’s -uhm- not often I get to meet my favorite Pro Hero on the job…”

A pleased smirk lifts Hawks’ cheeks, though you spot a funny kind of shyness in them when he studies your sleeve rather than look you in the eye-

“Favorite, huh?” Hawks smiles, “ n’here I thought I was the lucky one, sweet’eart-” he taps his headphones for emphasis, “One day I’m listening to you on repeat on my morning commute– and the next, I’m standing two feet from you!”

“--You’re kidding.”

From his pocketed phone, Hawks challenges you with a press and hold on the speakers to boost the volume as high as it could go. Faintly, you caught your own pop vocals from your second ever album casting from Hawks’ headphones.

You can’t believe your luck– he’s really a fan? Of yours?

The mix of sentimentality and surprise must be palpable on your face as you grasp exactly which song has Hawks spellbound before he cocks his head with a sheepish grin of his own,

“Believe me now?”

Words fail you, but you shudder out a little giggle that speaks volumes. He tests with a smile,

“Soooo guess you wouldn’t mind if I asked a horribly stereotypical favor and snagged a selfie while I’m here?”

Eyebrows shot up to the sky as Hawks dangled his phone between you, you immediately pause. No one on your Communications team is still backstage (to your knowledge), but the engrained warning about checking your professional list of partnerships before posting comes to mind… annoying as it is. All you want is a pic with him, too!

“Nothing for socials-” Hawks assures you with a gloved hand, “If your handlers are just as pesky as mine, they’d never let me live it down. Just– something to keep me grounded, on the hard days.”

That reasoning… it almost broke your heart just as quickly as your potential disappointment had been earlier.

With a knowing smile, you nodded sweetly to Hawks- he’s charming in a whole new light to you.

“Only if you send it to me too, hm? Favor for a favor?”

“ ‘Course!”

Sliding up into his open space, Hawks clearly knows his best side but keeps you right in the center of his shot. That smile he makes… you are going to keep this proud glint in his eye and sight of his hand around you locked into your mind forever– even if he forgets to send it to your insta handle after this.

It’s too brief of a moment, watching his wing curl around you though the phone’s front-facing camera burgeoning you close, head tilting gently against yours. Keeping a close-lipped smile seared into your mind when you think of him now.

Then in an even more lightning fast moment, while he’s fussing with a weird flip of his bangs, you reach to tap the shutter as you sneak a kiss onto his cheek.

He’s stunned by the move, but by the even brighter muted smile, you stand by with pride double checking his photo gallery that the shot made it. It surely did.

“You have a hard job, Hawks; harder and more dangerous than anyone I know,”

You step away casually.. Though the need for distance is more for your sake than just optics of your forwardness.

“... Thought you deserved more than one lil selfie. Hope that’s ok?”

“H-okay?” Hawks breathes out, studying his camera roll with reverence, “Better’n ok..”

Outside a muted feedback from the PA system is calling for Exit team to assemble– get staged for your departure from the venue at last.

“That’s me. Better bounce-” Hawks piped up after a small clearing of his throat. You’re nearly too shy to look at him after this-

-but when a kiss greets your hand, lifted imperceptibly fast and squeezed just as fleeting as his words grace your ears- you couldn’t look away if you tried.

“- a pleasure, dear.”

And before you can utter any further word of thanks or manage something other than a shocked smile, Hawks slips out of the room and off to hand the reins back to your team. You can barely hear from the still-live walkie talkies that your security detail is back at their regular stations, and your Pro-Hero is off for his final step of his hired work. Soon he’d be relieved of his station and off to save someone else from an unsavory fate.

He doesn’t forget to send you the photos; and you now have his private insta handle.

The photo where you snuck a peck onto his cheek would be set as your internal screenshot if it weren’t for your niece’s constant borrowing of your phone when she visits you on set…

But now, you’re back for a month-long stay at the studio– your reward for a successful first half of the Tour.

Encouraged by your protective muse’s spark at the thought of your new music, you decide to take that energy back to Chichibu. Your headphones might as well be glued to your head, with how much you’ve head-dived into your sound mixing apps and sampling library. In fact, it’s that unwavering attention to your music that you nearly miss the most obvious sight walking through the lobby of the unassuming recording studio. Almost.

But how could you really– when the largest floral arrangement you’d ever seen is gracing the reception table? That stunning piece looks like it costs more than the linoleum flooring the desk sits on.

A few aides have been distracted by the sight, studying the typed message attached and racking their brains for any sign of a calling card. One of your cutting room techs was currently rounding the base of the standing arrangement for some tucked note, which made you giggle how intently she was studying the thing.

You know the sound booth manager best out of this group of other visiting accompanists,

“Lucky, lucky girl~” she reels you in excitedly, plucking the card from the other’s sights and handing to you directly. “Sorry to say there’s no hint who it’s from… but it’s for you, little bird!”

You hedge at the pet name once again– the nickname stuck unwillingly not only for your melodic talent, but the association with your clear celebrity (heroic) crush.

However, as you read the note, the immediate assumption that this may have been another gift from a venue host was thrown right out the window…

This was a personal gift:

To keep my genius company while she makes her magic~ No one can give us the stories you can; don’t ever let them take your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard. Can’t wait to hear the new demo!

“No matter how high or low I am.. a piece of me will be here with you. It’s- where I'd rather be... Till next time…”

“Next time? Wait, who sent these again?!”

“It was just the delivery guy, from that really flouncy place downtown~” the receptionist answers with interest.

“Nooo, I mean on the card! Who signed the card?

“There's nothing– no initials, nothing..” you confirmed, still reeling over the message. But as you trail off over the cascade of tropical flowers, the flecks of red blooms catch your eye and bring you to study harder.

Then- tucked under some deep green curls- a spot of red hides. A quill amongst the mossy padding of the arrangement- not unlike a surprise found in a nest.

Sifting through under the guise of feeling tender petals, you grasp the soft, downy feather which bears a small post-it flag on the underside with a sequence of numbers on it.

“Do you have any idea who?”

Balling it carefully in your fist just as quickly, you answer, “Couldn't tell ya. But the pop of red sure is pretty, isn't it?”

In your booth -set up with your sticker-laden laptop and butterflies in your stomach- you hold the sticky note in one hand, pinching the crimson feather precariously in the other.

Face warmed and unbelieving of your luck, you think on what to send first to your mic-stealer…

To be continued?

#keigo takami #hawks #mha hawks #bnha hawks #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha

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emchante · 11 hours ago

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I see you responding to all the divorced dad! Daniel asks with wonderful fluff and smut, and I raise you some angst.

How about Daniel taking on more co-parenting, so the kids are fully at his house for 2 weeks or more. And you love them, but your "babysitting" skills are more fun, rather than practical. You're playing with them when it's supposed to be quiet time, allowing them ice cream and more Ipad time, basically spoiling them rotten. So now Danny's looking like a "bad cop" and has to pull you aside and talk to you.

NONNIEEE oh my god, i’ve been looking at this for a few days !! i love some good angst.. bring me more..

and i LOVE this scenario, actually. this was originally a long ramble, but it turned into a drabble. enjoy<3

daniel doesn’t expect it at first, that you’d be so up for helping him look after his kids. it’s a discussion you both had early on, daniel curious why you’re so into him, when he’s literally just.. a divorced father. you’re quick to convince him there are many reasons but that night, only one reason gets brought into fruition— he’s fucking hot.

but anyways when the time comes that he has the kids more often, he mentions it to you and you’re overjoyed!! you love his kids, and they seem to have a decent liking towards you— so it’s a win! he’s happy to hear you’ll be around to help look after them, and he can’t thank you enough (or, he can. it’s just not a way he can thank you when kids are around).

so, when the kids arrive for their 2 week stay, you’re there with daniel to greet them. they hug their dad first, daniel nuzzling his nose into their hair before placing a kiss on their foreheads. then, they turn to you and give you a hug too. it warms your heart. really. you’re glad you’re developing somewhat of a relationship with the two, even if it was a slow start.

it doesn’t take long for daniel to realise that you and him have different parenting skills. i mean what did he expect, really? you— a young, childless woman vs him— an older, experienced father. it’s not exactly surprising, but he didn’t expect it to be so different.

when it’s time for them to calm down, get settled as it’s coming up for their bedtime, you’re still playing happily with them. the sight is heartwarming, he can’t deny that. but, he knows they’ll be hyper as soon as they drop into their beds. he hesitates to interfere, they look so.. happy. they’re enjoying themselves, running from you with giggles erupting as you chase them around. eventually, he stands infront of the doorway that his daughter is running into. she’s looking behind, trying to look for you when she bumps into daniel’s knee, and is scooped up into his arms.

“daddy, help! she’s—” she starts loudly, giggles bursting before daniel interrupts her.

“i know honey, that’s why it’s time to stop. it’s almost time to sleep, and you’re up running around,” daniel gently scolds, subtly eyeing you at the side of him. youre stood with his son, hand on his shoulder as you stare at daniel guiltily.

“sorry, it’s my fault,” you mutter, giving the little guy a squeeze. “i got carried away and didn’t realise the time,” you continue, and daniel swallows. shit. he didn’t want to make you upset.

“no no, you’re fine. nobody is in the wrong or in trouble,” he smiles weakly, blowing a raspberry into his daughter’s cheek as he changes the subject. “now, who’s ready for bed? i’ll race ya..”

it was fine. it was done. it was one night.

until it wasn’t.

you were allowing them more time on their electronics than he would. you were allowing them ice cream before bed. you were allowing them to run around when it was quiet time. you were allowing them to go completely out of routine.

and now he looked like the bad guy. he looked like bad cop. and he couldn’t handle it. they were growing more attached to you, starting to love you more as the days went on. but when he put a stop to your antics, they would deflate. they weren’t as happy. they didn’t want dad messing it up, they wanted you fixing it.

and that’s how you end up here.

daniel asks you to come with him as the two kids watch a movie in the living room, bundled up in blankets on the sofa. just five minutes ago, you were all having a pillow fight while daniel set up the film. but it was breaking point for him.

he shuts the door behind him, turning round to look at you smiling softly at him. your smile falters at the deep exhale that escapes him, and you move a step closer.

“danny, is everything alright?” you ask, tilting your head so you could see his face, try to read his emotions. you feel a pit in your stomach when you notice his tight lips, his dark eyes and furrowed brows.

“we need to have a talk,” he lets out, voice low. you gulp in response, nodding slowly. you ask him what about, and the response is “you.”

“me? dan, have i— have i done something?” you ask worriedly, wringing your hands nervously as he still doesn’t move.

a sigh escapes him this time, finally looking up and staring at you. you feel a shiver go down your spine at the look he gives you. “look, we need to talk about how you look after the kids,” he starts, making you tilt your head.

“oh? what ab—” “you’re too lenient on them, and you make everything a game. they can’t live like that, discipline isn’t necessary all the time, but sometimes it is,” he interrupts you, and your jaw falls at his words.

“i— i don’t make everything a game? i try to mark things a little more fun, make life a little less mundane. you’re strict on them, danny, a little too strict. i’m trying to balance that,” you respond, it was evident in your tone you were upset— offended at what he said.

“you aren’t balancing anything!” he whisper-shouts, leaning closer and your eyes widen at the sudden silent outburst. “you’re messing with the way they’ve grown up and lived their entire lives. let me parent them like they’re used to. keep your antics to yourself,” he tells you, coldly.

you feel an ache in your chest at his words, and his attitude. why was he so bitter? why was he so afraid of letting them have a little more fun? “they’re kids, danny. let kids me kids.”

for some reason, that snapped something within him. daniel’s face twisted before he scuffed loudly, pointing a finger at you. “you don’t have kids, so you don’t know anything about parenting, or what it’s like to be one.”

the silence after that sentence is deafening, and you can’t see momentarily due to the tears welling in your eyes. you shakily breathe, before letting out a wet laugh. “yeah, you’re right. i’m not a parent. but that’s not by choice, is it daniel?” you ask him coldly, before turning around to the coat stand, grabbing your own.

daniel’s heart drops when he realises what he had said, and the impact it had on you. earlier, when i mentioned the plethora of reasons you liked daniel and his kids? a big reason, and one of the main ones— you can’t have kids yourself. you can’t get pregnant, therefore biologically you cannot have your own kids.

daniel crossed a line— majorly— but he wasn’t able to fix it in time. he snapped out of his thoughts due to the front door slamming, and you were gone.

NONNIE OH MY GOD this gave me the opportunity to introduce some lore about reader 👀 divorced dad! daniel angst? mmm, yes please. send in any genre about this series as much as you like!

#opening my mail #divorced dad!daniel

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sveleri · 3 days ago

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For me the conversation after Blood of Arlathan where he expresses his faith in Rook kind of had the opposite effect! It felt like calculated flattery, so instead of convincing my Rook to relax it kept them fully on guard... and in the end it didn't make a difference. There was no way to see the trap coming until it was triggered, exactly as Solas planned. But in that moment I honestly think he was being as genuine as he could allow himself to be without letting his mask slip. And his mask never slipped around Rook. He was no longer the freshly-awakened god from DAI who didn't have his act all together yet, so unlike the members of the Inquisition Rook got to see the true depths of his skill as a manipulator firsthand.

I think it's illustrative of who Solas is as a person that every betrayal he committed was ultimately a betrayal of himself as well. No matter how much it hurt he kept cutting away the kindest, gentlest, softest parts of himself every time he turned on the people he cared for. He couldn't imagine a world where anyone he has wronged actually forgave him (because he couldn't forgive himself) so the only chance he saw for redemption was to change the world itself. No matter how he felt about Rook there was never a chance that they alone could convince him to change his mind specifically because he saw himself in them. There is no one Fen'Harel is more practiced at betraying than Solas.

Which makes Rook's role in the final confrontation with Solas a quiet one, but utterly crucial. Morrigan, Mythal and the Inquisitor do most of the talking, but Rook's very presence is a mirror, a reminder of everything he has done. And this reflection, who he has gravely wronged in all the ways that he has wronged himself, chooses not to lash out but instead calls upon the people who can actually convince Solas to accept redemption. He'll never be sure exactly how they did it or why, but he knows that without Rook things couldn't have played out this way and that holds a special significance to him.

In the moment I was caught off-guard and wondered why he turned around to thank my Rook, who'd just been standing there in silence while his old love and new heart finally talked him down, but considering it now after reading this post I think that what Solas was grateful for was the chance to look in a mirror and see his reflection do what he couldn't: forgive.

The highlight of Veilguard for me is the relationship between Solas and Rook- and I don't know how to write about this on the internet without being acutely aware of other peoples' criticisms (such as there not being enough of it)- so I'll just say up top that I'm not actually intending this as a refutation of any of those. I just want to talk about my experience with the game and why I like it so much, which will probably make obvious where I disagree with some reoccurring critiques I've seen. *

The thing about Solas in this game is that he plays the role of the trickster perfectly. As much as Fen'Harel is a myth or a persona, and the stories we know of him invented or twisted, his role in Veilguard feels like it could slot in so, so easily with the myths, and in many ways directly parallels them. He is sinister and noble, monstrous and sympathetic, ruthless and compassionate, all at once. He spends the game trapped and humbled but can be almost gleefully condescending at times. He conflates outsmarting an enemy with being right, even as he plays the long-suffering martyr, tortured by countless mistakes. He falls easily into the role of advisor but is quick to note your foolishness. To sneer and declare the problem yours and yet still impose upon you an appraisal of your conduct.

But more than any of that, for most of the game, he's...passive. Dormant. He seems to make no moves, other than as a glorified consultant, despite starting as the main threat.

In Blood of Arlathan, when he finally rears his head again as major a player on the board, it's with a gallant offer of help. As an ally. He is exactly what you need, right when you need it, and you don't even have to ask him to be. And- because you don't have constant access to him, you maybe haven't even considered him an option!

He feels extremely intentionally sparing to me before this in service of a) making you think you're the one with power over him and b) causing you to forget he might contribute at all, so that when he finally does, it seems wholly benevolent. It comes in a moment where your goals are exactly aligned, and indisputably noble.

It's a waiting game. A classic of his, harkening back to stories we've heard time and again about Fen'harel and traps.

As Felassan tells it in the Masked Empire:

Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped.

He goads his enemies into fighting each other for his benefit. Anaris, who had hunted him, succeeds with Fen'Harel's advice, exploiting a weakness he could only see with his aid. In turn, Anaris himself is left exposed. The victory goes to Fen'Harel, who has now dispatched two enemies at once and cleverly won his freedom.

He who was both Creator and Forgotten One. Who could walk amongst both as kin, and who in the end turned his back on them all.

Another tale:

The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.

Felassan is everywhere in the Crossroads, in memories, in regrets, in notes that speak to a time you can barely fathom and traces of a friendship that is never once brought up by Solas directly (to my knowledge at least). I think Felassan serves a lot of purposes; he's a window into history, into Solas' mind and ideals, someone who challenges moments of ruthlessness but is loyal, an advisor who keeps Solas grounded even as he pushes him to become something larger than he is, a lingering notion of a loss that you can never really see the full scale of, and so on. And I think, too, that he's written carefully to be a meaningful presence from the rebellion without explicitly spoiling what eventually happens to him, which I wouldn't be surprised if was a legit consideration made for people who might go back and read the Masked Empire after dav lol- in the same way that Trespasser only really spoils the book if you already know what happens.

But for me, every note signed with his name is almost a tongue-in-cheek warning about what's to come. Felassan. A slow arrow, fired apparently mockingly into the sky, only to strike true when it's least expected. A solution executed with neither kindness nor explanation, serving first and foremost the interests of the one who fired it. Felassan's presence in the game ever so slightly encodes a reminder of who you're actually dealing with and what his core tenants are, whether as an ally or an adversary. You only know if you know, but it doesn't seem an accident to me that this reoccurring name of a general who shaped himself in honor of the Dread Wolf's unorthodox cleverness is so key to these traces of Fen'Harel's past, despite, again, never directly being discussed.

Anyways, to Rook. First, I gotta give a shoutout to Bryony Corrigan, whose voice I used for mine- she honestly made the game for me, especially in moments where I felt unsure of it. I love Rook, I love how they're written, and I love how they're performed. While a complete blank slate protagonist can be really fun, I find putting myself as a player in conversation with limitations given by the game really fun and interesting, and often surprising! And I do feel there's still plenty of flexibility.

My perspective on the relationship between Rook and Solas in Veilguard is specific to how I played of course, and I haven't seen other versions of their dynamic at this point to compare so I can't speak to them. But my experience was as such:

I didn't come into the game wanting to intentionally antagonize him. If he rose at me, I rose at him- and those moments of tension were really, really fun. But I tried to accept what he gave me with a fairly open mind. Skepticism, sure, but also the knowledge that ultimately, we both wanted Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain gone, and he knew them better than I did.

It was really gratifying, then, to see our rocky partnership evolve over time into what seemed like a genuine respect. But it didn't really feel straightforward to me either. For example, the conversation before Weisshaupt held a lot of weight for me: listening to him tell that chilling tale about undermining an enemy with persistent laughter and finding that 'Do whatever it takes to remove those who oppose you' was something we came out aligned on was.... There was an element of foreboding to that. Like, I had found myself actively trying to impress him here! And feeling good when it seemed like I had, but uneasy about how I had done it, even when I agreed with what I'd said.

And of course, after that comes Arlathan. Solas' big hero moment. This is the point in the game where our alliance finally felt comfortable to me. The conversation in the fade after was the first time that it really seemed like we were on even ground. And the game- not just Solas- told me here outright that I had earned his respect! After that, I didn't consider betrayal a possibility for a moment. Honestly, I barely even considered him an antagonist at all, because he had become a partner instead! I was expecting something clever down the line, but I wasn't worried about it hurting me. Our disagreements had been set aside, and the goal of his that I had initially opposed had been so thoroughly usurped I had forgotten that he was even pursuing it. And yes, that's perhaps naivety on my part, but I was so distracted by that not at all being the main plot that I forgot that it actually still was. Which is the whole point, right? He waits until your head is turned the other way to strike.

All this to say, my reaction when you kill Ghilan'nain and Solas uses the instability of the Veil to force you into his prison went beyond shock and confusion. It wasn't until well into his villain monologue that I was able to accept that he had betrayed me at all- having been thus far trying desperately to convince myself that the sequence I was seeing was Elgar'nan playing mind games in retaliation, and not actually Solas.

That prison moment is his Slow Arrow. You are Anaris to Elgar'nan's Andruil, the dagger the chink in her armor, and Ghilan'nain's death the golden arrow striking you in the back.

The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

And I should say, I was coming at this all from the meta perspective of someone who loves Solas and empathizes with him and has never seen him as irredeemable or evil- and I, the player, who believed that all game and is ultimately satisfied with the resolution I got- felt hoodwinked as fuck in this moment lmao!!

There's a line in the prison that Varric has about it being easier for Solas to play the villain when he knows he's causing harm- so I do think he plays up his sinisterness here on purpose. But it's such a slap in the face coming straight off of "You have earned the respect of the Dread Wolf." A true and profound betrayal, at least for me.

And it doesn't stop there! His trickster maneuvers and half-truths aren't done until the credits roll. I love that when you meet again, he is nothing but apologies. He makes every concession- that Varric was a good man, that every victory in this fight has been yours, that he needs you and not the other way around, that he was wrong and made mistakes and betrayed people who never deserved it. And of course, we know from experience at this point that this won't stop him from doing it again anyways. But he never holds back from placing the blame on himself. Agreeing with you. Telling you you're right, and that Elgar'nan must be stopped. He only ever says things that are true. Things that are aligned with your point of view.

"[The veil] will never come down by my hand." Well, yes. Because it will fall on its own when Elgar'nan is dead. You won't hardly have to do anything at that point, Solas, will you?

It doesn't matter if Rook isn't falling for it, because if they don't accept his partnership, they lose! That's it! It's the same as it was at the start, but with the added sting of knowing it probably won't work out in your favor this time.

I remember before launch John Epler saying that Solas sees himself in Rook, which really echoes throughout the whole game for me. There are some ways you could say Solas seems opposite to Rook- and of course this can wax and wane depending on roleplaying choices, but the central conceit of Rook as Varric's recruit is that they are a specialist in being willing to act. And on the surface at least, that's kind of counter to Solas' Slow Arrow, right? Blunt force versus delayed gratification. But not entirely! Because every backstory we have for Rook revolves around a kind of heroism that is unorthodox enough to have left you ultimately punished for it. Like yeah, yeah, you saved some lives.... The optics were kinda bad though, so maybe you could go on a sabbatical for a while?

Rook is, from the start, an unconventional and unsung hero, admonished by some for ruffling feathers that they shouldn't have in pursuit of a noble goal. Not unlike Fen'Harel.

I find, too, that there's kind of a nesting doll of parallels around Rook and Solas as foils that the whole story hinges on:

We see Solas, his regrets plastered on every wall, each of them tied to Mythal. At every turn he seems to warn her that this is not the right path, but he follows her down it anyways, until he is left with nothing but an overwhelming need to fix what they have broken.

We see Felassan, who still wears Mythal's vallaslin on his face, challenging Solas' judgement and methods, but still standing by him through the rebellion, after the Veil, for however many thousands of years they slept. Ultimately, in the Masked Empire, the thing that makes him falter is his admiration for someone else's pursuit of freedom. His admiration for Briala.

"I suspect you'll hate this, but she reminds me of-"

Solas is Rook. Solas is Briala. Upstarts, flawed defenders, people who are made into leaders because of their willingness to fight for something. Who see injustice and cannot rest.

Solas is Felassan, the devoted general. One who pushes against his orders but cannot deny them. Someone who loves the cause, but more than that is dedicated to the person who champions it. A voice of reason who, in the end, turns away.

Solas is Mythal, a pragmatic leader, responsible for uncountable deaths. Someone who has relied on partners and power structures that have led her down a dark path, partners whose mistakes in their pursuit of power have become her own. Partners who in the end betray her.

Solas is trapped in his regrets because they are not all his. He struggles with having been failed and with how he has failed others, and in his mind the two become conflated. He carries these contradictory roles on his back- perpetrator and victim, betrayer and betrayed- and cannot see how to overcome them. He is ultimately freed by Mythal's absolution because the foremost factor in his crusade is not belief but guilt.

The ends have to justify the means, because there is no other way he can live with himself. And at every step, he is trying to redeem Mythal as much as he is trying to redeem himself.

He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He wanted to give wisdom, not orders. I will always follow where you go.

He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

It was all for her. It was always for her.

Solas' duplicity is unending, but so is his devotion. And there is such an earnestness to a Rook, always betrayed, that sees and empathizes with that and uses it to free him.

* I will say that during the game I was definitely wishing you could show your hand to him a little more and press him about his memories prior to the endgame (and separate from this I have quibbles with the impact of some of those memory reveals- like wrt the delivery just not feeling as weighty as I would like. The payoff is absolutely still there in the end, it just felt to me like they were too nonchalantly getting a ton of info out that had to be established moving forward, despite these being like earthshattering reveals that people have Correctly (!!!!) theorized about for up to 15 years). That being said, in retrospect it would have lessened the impact of the finale to have pressed Solas about, for example, his relationship to Mythal prior to absolutely pulling the rug out from under him with it at the 11th hour. And additionally, it's a structural nightmare because you can uncover the memories at almost any point in the story, and you don't have constant access to Solas to chat with him about them. Which you shouldn't imo, in service to the story being told!! But it's also true that early on I found scenes with Solas super gripping, and scenes with my team often...not. And that was initially disheartening, but developed positively over time on all fronts once the game didn't have to worry about setting things up. So, I did wish for more here at first, but I've revised my opinion now that I can see the whole arc.

#op wrote an amazing analysis and it got me thinking #I'm still unfamiliar with tumblr etiquette when it comes to reblogging and tags so #just to be safe #veilguard spoilers

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senseandaccountability · 2 days ago

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“It takes the wrong sort to put the world right.”

A huge problem for me with the tone of the narrative is that outside a very carefully curated playthrough experience with preconceived ideas of and love for Solas, Veilguard is probably the least compassionate game I’ve played in forever, while spouting out lines about how everyone can find a new path in life because our nature isn’t written in stone, our fates are our own, as well as plenty of HR department lines about working together as a team.

“It takes the wrong sort to put the world right.” The game says that, but it definitely doesn’t mean it. At least I don’t feel it. You are so very rarely challenged in your idea of who this wrong sort is and what they could bring to the table. Davrin speaks of the Wardens recruiting at the Gallows but you meet only adorable, righteous and charming ones. The Crows aren’t the wrong sort anymore, they’re just adorably Antivan upper class. And so on and so forth. Rook certainly isn’t the wrong sort either, they’re mentally around 19 years old and stumbling their way through the world like some romance novel protag. In one of the most thematically shallow plots, Rook gets thrown into a prison of regret fit to hold a god but unlike Solas, Rook doesn’t do regrets or guilt because Rook isn’t that complex. Rook hasn’t been allowed to feel any guilt for three acts, just how are they meant to be stuck in a regret prison?

Compare with Origins where you yourself could be just that wrong sort that would put the world right. ALL of my Origins PCs would get stuck in Solas’s prison due to the weight of their own fuckups. If not during the game events where you could make shitty moves en masse, then because of their origin stories. Brosca and Tabris would get out of there through sheer fury alone - fuck you, I am a wreck because YOU MADE ME ONE, WORLD OF THEDAS - but the nobles would stew. Amell would loop in some guilt trip regarding blood magic and Jowan and whatnot.

Compare with Origins where Loghain is a piece of shit for most of the narrative. He actively wants to kill you and your Order, it’s nothing personal (okay, a little personal) but he just needs you gone. If you want to, you can hack and slash your way through some release there and just have him executed. BUT the game also challenges you on that idea. It presents a very pragmatic alternative that comes with a very plausible downside (you lose Alistair). It presents not excuses but explanations - do with them what you will. Loghain has people in his corner through the entire trilogy, arguing his case. Cauthrien FALLS TO HER KNEES before you, pleading to spare his life. Threnn in DAI will stan him for the rest of her life. Anora tells you stories about the man behind the name. And Arl Eamon’s world view and idea of Loghain is shown to be more than a little self-serving when faced with the politics of the Landsmeet. Things around Loghain blur. In the Ostagar DLC they allow things to blur even further when Loghain’s pragmatism is countered by Wynne’s player character-moralism (ie “someone died, it’s always wrong if someone died even if that death prevented 9000000 deaths you KILLED someone!!!!!111”). Origins tells me - or hints at - why Loghain became the wrong sort, shows me ways in which he is also the right sort and leaves me wondering about him. Because the game is gritty and dark and weird but also yes, compassionate. If you execute him, Anora will mourn him because she loves him regardless. If you have him join the Wardens she will sit with him while he recovers because he is undeniably an asshole but he’s also her father who braided her hair and showed her the world. A good narrative never, ever forgets that. Veilguard feels so different here, maybe it's just me. I'm pretty sure I'm almost done being salty now, I just... feel a lot about narratives.

#datv spoilers #datv critical #salty on main

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constantnbpreg · 1 day ago

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Think of a scenario that could be improved by being very pregnant~

of course there’s the classics like driving or going to a restaurant but a scenario i love thinking about that would be amazing to do while very pregnant is grocery shopping as silly as it sounds

i like to imagine myself my twins. gotta go to the grocery store weekly which means regulars who come the same time and day I do and the same employees get to see me get more and more pregnant each week. and because it’s twins, i’m getting big quickly. at first no one would notice anything of course. the small curve of my previously flat tummy is easily hidden by my shirts, barely pressing into my pants yet. just my little secret.

but every week starting after the day my pants stop buttoning though? oh that’s when the changes really start. as my tummy starts to really round out and become a proper belly i notice things. i notice how it’s getting harder to reach for things on top shelves without my belly getting in the way. the day i stretch to try and grab a can, my belly knocks over a bunch of products on one of the lower shelves and i am so embarrassed and lean i have to reach sideways now to not risk that happening again.

i think about me, standing in an aisle trying to find something and rubbing my belly as I do so. hand resting on the curve of it as i peer over my choices. maybe i’m looking at something i’m craving, not on the list but im sooooo hungry. the babies do nothing but kick me and demand me to eat it feels like. and by the way my thighs stretch my maternity pants and my new love handles, you can tell how all those cravings have been adding up.

all the walking i do up and down the aisles is when i start to notice im beginning to waddle a bit. my belly getting so big and heavy on my widening hips. i can feel how the added baby weight makes my ass and thighs jiggle as i move in a way they’ve never done before. it’s clear from my cart that gets more and more items for all my cravings how i got those soft new curves and as the babies get heavier, the harder it is to try and complete my grocery trip. the babies that my partner did such a good job fucking into me take after them in size which means they are biiiiig. and they’re only getting bigger from that point on. they sit heavy against my pelvis, and curve my back so much that it makes me groan.

the space between me and the cart too is nearly non existent at this point too, it just swells so much in front of me that i fear what i’ll do if i can’t reach past it. before i got pregnant i used to always use self checkout, but that’s nearly impossible for me now, trying to maneuver all those items by myself is too exhausting. so instead i squeeze me and my wide hips into a register line. i try and not just how much my hips have grown and spread but it’s hard to when i see how much they fill the small space. i pray i don’t get stuck by the end of this pregnancy, but by how these babies are growing, i better not test my luck.

the cashier would smile at me and like many of the customers i’ve passed, they’d ask me when i was due because it had to be soon right? i tell them i still got three months left and it’s big twins and i see the shock on their face because im just so gravid.

still by my due date, i’m still attempting those trips. my partner helps me though because i have to have one hand holding the underside of my baby filled belly and one supporting my poor back. no way to man a cart groaning as i make my slow way beside them and panting but smiling all the same. my clothes barely fit too, belly hanging out and ass near bursting through the seams of my pants. customers and employees stare at me as we pass, wondering how could be just so big and fertile. wondering why i would still be up and moving when it’s obvious how uncomfortable i am. and they’re right, i am but god it feels so good still being this pregnant and out.

and as we walk and chat about the babies and what to eat for dinner, i lovingly rub my belly thinking about how i’m so excited to do this all over again

#ftmpreg #nbpreg #wg #tmpreg #preg kink #pluto writes #i could probably write so much more but i’m eepy #grocery shopping is just a fun thing to think about doing while pregnant #anything with just a big awkward belly is made more fun #asks #this was such a fun prompt too thank yooouuu <3

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gothamite-rambler · 3 days ago

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Barbara finds out Dick and Kori are back together

Context (there's a lot): Hey, this is my take on a ship fic about Dick and Kori, which I've always seen as my OTP. I love exploring how romance is perceived on Kori's planet, and when written well, I find it aligns with our view of monogamous dating. I mean no hate toward Babs/Dick shippers; I do get it and the current comic runs have done exceptionally well at writing them as a couple ... but Dick and Kori are my favorite couple they have my heart. This is connected to my Batfamiy flash fiction series.

This is if Barbara found out they were back together, with Dick and Barbara having more of a sibling-like after trying dating out, it didn't work so their friends. I promise this isn't sending hate to their ship, plus it's all fun tbh. I hope you enjoy it!

Barbara knocked on the door of Dick Grayson’s apartment, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the armrest of her wheelchair as she waited. Dick hadn't told her why he wanted to go out to lunch with her, but he said he has a big surprise for her.

Barbara (in her head): He's been acting odd lately and I know he's lying about taking a dance class. He dances alone, not with a group.

Barbara chuckles at that thought as she kept waiting for someone to answer the door. She knocked again.

Barbara (in her head): Oh God, I hope he doesn't want to try dating me again. I get it, I'm exceptional, but I can't date him again. At this point, he's like my twin brother which leagues better than my actual brother. And is he going to answer the damn door?!

She knocked a third time, this one with more force to sound louder and get Dick's attention to open the door. The door did open, but she was greeted by Kori wearing a silk bathrobe. A dark orange blush quickly colored her cheeks as her eyes widened.

Barbara (surprised): Starfire?

Kori (yelping, gripping her robe): Nope, not her!

She quickly slammed the door shut and unseeable to Barbara, she ran to the bathroom as Dick left the shower.

Kori (embarrassed): She saw me in a robe! Dang it!

Dick sighed, placing a hand over his eyes.

Outside, Barbara’s mind raced as she processed the unexpected sight.

Barbara (to herself): I didn’t take any loony pills, right? That was definitely only a robe! Are they back together? Oh my God, they got back together. That's fantastic- I should probably stop talking to myself and knock on the door again.

She knocked once more, this time with urgency. The door opened to reveal Dick, a bath towel wrapped precariously around his waist, held with one hand.

Dick: You probably have a lot of questions—

Barbara (loudly): You guys are back together?!

Dick (sighing, nodding): Yeah. I was going to tell you today when we went to Chili’s, but you decided to drop by early.

Barbara (laughing as she wheeled past him into the apartment): I got here five minutes early! But I didn’t expect you two to reconnect—especially like this. How long have you been hiding it?

Dick: Two months and three days. Nobody knows, except for you. You’re not mad, are you?

Barbara (turning to face him, raising an eyebrow): At what? That you're dating her again? Maybe five years ago, I would have been. But after dating you and—let's just say—being disappointed—

Dick: Okay, you don’t have to insult our sex! I was nervous back then!

Barbara (rolling her eyes): Fair enough. Honestly, I’m happy. Now the rumors about us can end. I really don’t need people gossiping that we’re back together.

Dick (cocky): Because you’re worried people will wonder how you scored a treasure like me?

Barbara (sarcastically): Whatever you want to believe, Dick. And by the way, keep the towel around your waist; I don’t want to go blind seeing that again.

Dick rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his dignity.

Dick: I’m glad you’re not jealous anymore. At this point, we’re friends, and I don’t want to deal with relationship drama.

Barbara (nodding): Now we’re on the same page. Not going to lie, though, I’m surprised she took you back. Where’d the blushing Starfire go, anyway? I thought she’d be worried I’d snap seeing her again, but I want to chat.

As Barbara wheeled around the apartment, Dick considered her comment.

Dick: What do you mean you’re surprised she took me back?

Barbara (over her shoulder): I’ve known you long enough, Dickie-bird. You know exactly what I mean.

Dick (smirking): You’re one to talk. You hacked my text messages when you thought I was dating someone else—or the time you thought I was dating my rapist when she was actually a crazy stalker.

Barbara (genuinely): I am sorry for being like that, although you definitely were texting that first girl.

Dick: She was my yoga teacher!

Barbara shrugged, acknowledging her past assumptions during their brief stint of dating.

Barbara: You were the jealous type, annoyingly overprotective... and, let’s just say, you weren’t exactly gifted in the bedroom.

Dick crossed his arms, trying to ignore Barbara’s jabs, even though he was tempted to respond.

Barbara (calling out): Kori, come on out! I’m not judging you. I’m genuinely happy for you two and hope you can make it work. Dick's been playing the field for years; it’s about time he settles down.

Dick (angry but holding the towel): I’ve said nothing to warrant this onslaught of insults!

Barbara (laughing): I’m just trying to break the ice and simply stating a fact. Kori! As long as you’re not wearing that robe, we can talk now.

There was a heavy sigh, and then Kori emerged from Dick’s bedroom, now wearing a purple top and blue jeans. She offered a small wave and a smile.

Kori: I really didn’t want our meeting to be this awkward. I overheard you two talking, and I’m glad you don’t hate me for getting back with Dick. I really hate that we fought over him in the past.

Barbara nodded, understanding Kori's perspective.

Barbara: Same here. I care about him, but he’s my friend. That’s why I make jokes at his expense.

Dick crossed his arms, scoffing, though his smile betrayed his amusement.

Barbara (continuing): You’re probably going to be the best influence on him. Plus, Dick and I have stayed friends for about seven years. I prefer that dynamic, and he couldn't handle all this.

Kori pondered that for a second and then nodded in agreement.

Kori: It's tough for me, especially matching his... freak, as they call it.

Barbara stifled a laugh, covering her mouth.

Barbara: Yeah, Richard's freak has definitely been discussed in the hero circle. I’ve never done it, but I’ve heard he does the crouching tiger well.

Kori (with a playful grin): I'm on top during—

Dick (blushing, from the next room): Could you not?! I'm getting changed; don’t mock me while I’m gone!

Dick wandered off to his room, avoiding eye contact with Barbara, who was clearly entertained by the entire conversation.

Kori (giggling): Looks like we've managed to ruffle his feathers.

Barbara: I’ve got a talent for that. The point is, Kori, we’ve had our issues, but I’m on board with this new dynamic. Seriously, I'm not mad or jealous. I’m... happy for both of you.

Barbara smiled and gave Kori a sincere nod.

Barbara: I don’t want to push this, but I could really use more girlfriends besides Batgirls, Supergirls, and Harley.

Kori nodded thoughtfully, her expression brightening.

Kori: Plus, our blossoming friendship could lead to some surprising reactions that will definitely make us laugh.

Barbara rolled closer, extending her hand.

Barbara: Now you’re talking. Kori, this is the start of something great.

Kori (jokingly): Or a “colleagueship”?

They shook hands.

Kori: Would you like a snack? We could play a card game while we wait for Dick.

Barbara (enthusiastic): Oh my goodness, you’re already winning me over. I’ll be in the living room. And Kori, keeping an eye on Dick is probably a good idea—he can be weird at times.

Dick (from the other room): Oh my God, I’m not even in the room!

Laughter filled the air as Kori and Barbara shared a light moment, the tension melting away with each chuckle. By the time Dick emerged from his room, a sense of camaraderie settled in, carrying the promise of new beginnings.

A Smoothie and a Second Chance

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forwards-beckon-rebound · 7 hours ago

Text

of the father and the son

warnings: major character death, referenced assault and battery, religious themes, weird references to cumbia and salsa, basically just every warning related to the events of jason's death

it started as all rendezvous do. knowing glances, a delicate chase between tomcat and robin. a dare: catch me if you can. his partner slips out of the room unbeknownst to all except his target. the game is afoot.

they meet alone in a room. it starts with a dance. a cumbia variation. right step, left step. cross body lead. a slide to the left, a turn to the right.

“agua!” his partner cries in delight. their movements are a blur as he fights to keep control. hesitation, block, check. and then, a change of place. a change of pace.

time comes to a stand still. his head dips. he has been ensnared.

but what type of dance would it be without music? there’s not much to work with, so they improvise a duet. his partner provides the rhythm, and if done well, his jaybird rewards him with an “a” note. it’s syncopated.

clang, a-lang, a-lang, a—clang, a-lang, a-lang, AH—

but every cinderella’s evening must come to come to an end. and the clock is about to strike midnight.

before they part, he leaves him a small gift.

a gentle caress of the cheek, so he won’t

forget

their

time

to gether.

the wound,

it burns.

the spell is broken. it is 12 o��clock. and the jaybird is all alone.

12 is a funny number. it was the egyptians, who had first decided to split the night into 12 parts based on the 12 asterisms. it was caesar, who had ordered the creation of a 12 month calendar. it was jesus, who had 12 apostles before he was betrayed and that number became 11. and soon, the 12 seconds jason todd had left were about to become

11.

on good days, his mother (no that wasn’t right. his real mother was the unconscious woman the joker had left sitting across the room from him. his mother was the woman who had brought him into this world just so he could die for humanity’s sins. her included, for she too was only human) caretaker was atheist. it was only on the nights when the electricity bill had not been paid and the snow piled high on their window ledge, that she began to pray. a private mass, just the two of them. a confessional without a booth, a church without a father.

10.

he had thought she was silly then, all pressed up against the wall to steal the warmth from the next unit over as she preached of loving thy neighbour. they were bundled up in as many layers as they could wring out of the closet. under the last-washed-in-august comforter, he wore a puffer and under that, his sunday best. it was the warmest he had, all wool and short around the ankles, with a bulky security tag pressed against the small of his back. it was the only thing his father had ever left for him. he had hated her perpetual prayers that kept him from sleep. now, he longed for those days. at least then, he wouldn’t have died alone.

our father, who art in heaven. did jesus pray like this too, when he was on the cross? did he ever curse the fact that even as he bled out, he could not say “my father”? for everybody is a child of god. even the prostitutes who sold themselves for a full stomach and a roof over their heads. even the criminals on either side of him, who committed sins much worse than telling the truth. even the very soldiers who had hung him there and pierced holes in him that would never mend. did jesus ever wonder why, out of all of god’s children, he had been the chosen one, born to die?

he had always been taught that good things come to those who do good. he had always tried to do good by others. he had stopped his classmates from being bullied. he had fought that mugger who was about to take some old lady’s purse. he had tried to take down the joker all alone despite orders because he had wanted to save his mother. surely, those were all good actions. surely he was good.

did jesus’ father ever take pity on him? god must have seen him bleeding out. even if he had accepted this fate, surely every parent’s instinct is to protect. the child’s role is to be foolish, and the parent’s role is to forgive. so surely, his own father could overlook this mistake one time. he would be rescued and they could pretend this was nothing more than a bad nightmare. but jesus hadn’t made it off his cross alive, had he?

everything would be alright. his father wasn’t god. his father was batman. and batman would never let anybody die on his watch. hell, even if it was the joker locked up in here with the bomb about to go off, his father would probably save him too. god, though? god couldn’t even save his son.

what was he worried about? his father would break through this door with a badass kick and save him just in the nick of time. that would show that stupid clown.

any second now, his father would break through this door and save him in the nick of time.

any second now, his father would come to save him.

his father would come to save him.

dad…save me

they created a lovely tableau. a broken figure, no more human than he is alive, cradled in the lap of a parent he no longer fits into. mother and son, engraved in marble. father and son, covered in ash. time continues on its lumbering path, but a parent’s grief never changes.

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magebastard · 17 hours ago

Text

a rarer height

wc: 1019

ship: loua ‘rook’ mercar x lucanis dellamorte

rating: t

notes: datv spoilers! plotless mush! this ran away from me and i want it OUT of my head! prob takes place after the romance lock-in point or a time shortly after.

—

It’s foolish.

She should leave their cozy kitchen in their cozy nook of their deceptively cozy dining hall.

Instead, Loua brings a scalding cup of bitter, black coffee to her lips and leans incorrigibly against the counter. She watches his hands while he works. He hums as he cooks for them all. She wonders if it’s truly an idle habit or if he’s keeping himself awake.

Before this mess began, she remembers her blood racing and heart warming to the sight of deadly competence. Her fellow Shadows exuding the strength of righteous purpose. Combat prowess, stratagem, kindness and authority. She had a type, damn it.

The hearth fire casts the chamber in a golden glow. No one else is in this hall and Lucanis is quietly humming and murmuring measurements to himself.

“If I wanted to poison you, I assure you I’d already have done so,” he’d teased with one of those angular, jabbing smiles on his face. And, well, he could have. It wouldn’t even be difficult. She’d drink poison from the cups of his rough, quick hands if he kept his eyes on hers. He wouldn’t even have to try. What a dissatisfying kill for an adept assassin.

It’s confusing more than it is anything else. Lucanis is competent, authoritative and kind. And her heart did respond to those things. A torchlight in her chest, bright and undeniable.

Though it’s negligible beside the inferno made of him when they are at rest.

The trouble is (and the thrill is) that he’s shy. Not traditionally—no stammering, no fumbling. It’s sweeter. Reserved. When Loua freely pours her affection out for him, he stares for just a moment. At first, she worried she’d made him uncomfortable. And wouldn’t that be an awkward card, in the already nightmarish hand of circumstance?

They’d been walking, leisurely strolling through the canal district. Meeting Illario for coffee in Treviso, before it all went sour. Killing time had become novel enough to delight and Loua felt drunk with it. A violet hue from the city’s mage lights colored the night and the cut of his cheeks handsomely.

“It’s a beautiful city.” she’d said.

“It is.” he’d replied so fondly.

“It certainly suits you.”

Loua remembers the breath where she thought she’d fucked up immeasurably. Lucanis had stared straight ahead for a long beat. She would have bet that he’d kindly rebuff her for her boldness. His jaw worked over and over as if he were chewing on his words. She almost backpedaled to free him from having to say anything at all.

But the seismic upward quirk of his lips and the mirth in his tired, dark eyes stilled something in her, in turn. It wasn’t fair. She had to be clever and charming to disarm him and all he had to do was look. All the odds in the Thedas were stacked against her. The blighted, hateful non-gods must be cackling to themselves at the weakness of the fool sent to slay them.

Things had only gotten more pathetic from there.

But Lucanis began relenting in inches, showing his own attachment to her in turn.

Zara was dead and Illario would face retribution, soon. Loua had her own ideas but there was no chance she’d voice them to him, now. Especially not now.

Loua watches him with a dry throat and starving eyes. It all goes beyond the stir of attraction or even that benign affection. How could a killers’ hands be the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen? How could she be so entirely arrested by a look? How could her heart crack open in her chest now, when it needs to be firmer—sharper than it has ever been?

She‘s never been in love. Is it supposed to ache like this?

“You must know I can sense you staring. You’re confusing Spite.”

It’s the most carefree thing he’s said since their prison break from the Ossuary in his mind. And void, isn’t that a relief? She had a needling worry that they’d have to start over, now that he had a more comfortable respite from Spite’s intervention.

To see him loose and light with rolled up sleeves and a serene look on his face stayed her fears. Quite a few of them, actually.

“You’re such a sap,” Neve had said, in his minds eye. Perhaps she should feel chided. But with the world ending and when moments like this are so fleeting and fractured, balancing on a knifes’ edge? If holding on with both hands makes her a sap, then that is a fine thing to be.

Loua tilts her head and knows she’s not imagining the way his eyes follow hers with an assassins’ focus. Nor that confounding quirk of a smile.

“The way you cook reminds me of my momae.” Oh, she hadn’t meant to say that. That wasn’t very romantic at all. Why did she say that?

But the quirk stretches to a full, attentive beam and the particulars of her fumbling didn’t matter then. “Go on,” he says. She could melt.

“She loved it—having a real kitchen. My mothers grew up largely traveling and settling in the woods. My momae loved to cook. I don’t think she ever got over the joy of having a full kitchen. You just seem—well, I don’t know. Content, maybe? It’s nice.” Loua shrugs, reaching for a casual gesture to release the anxious, cloying weight in her chest. “Seeing you this way, I mean. It’s always nice.” It’s remarkable. I’ve watched you sail with spectral wings across battlegrounds, landing precise and graceful strikes through our enemies hearts with the fervor and care of an artist—but nothing, nothing has ever stolen breath from me the way that watching you methodically chop vegetables with a smile has.

Lucanis sets down the knife. Rests his hands on the countertop as if he were bracing himself. His head tilts now and she follows the movement carefully with her eyes. They stand there, like fools, grinning at each other in the hearth light.

“I would not say content, just yet. We have quite a to-do list, yes? But there is—“ his jaw works as he searches for the words she hangs on. “There is no small relief in feeling at home somewhere. With someone, perhaps.”

The weight; the anxious, vibrating stone in her chest opens like a yawning primrose. Something tender and raw and bruise-violet hangs between them. It’s not tension, it’s reaching. Loua burns for him and she cannot remember a time she wanted so deeply, something to keep.

The world is burning. Now is not the time for this. She sips the coffee he’s made for her. It’s warm in her hands.

“Yes,” she says. Too quiet, too soft. “I know exactly what you mean.”

#datv spoilers #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age rook #loua x lucanis #lucanis x rook #fic #myfic #c: loua mercar #i hate this but i am happy it’s out of my noggin

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legendary-69420 · 3 days ago

Text

MOMENTS-2 (Extras ✨)

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME ?)

A/N : Before you read! Please dont attack me that I Blurred your Idol's Faces I do have a reason and that is to set up my original character If you are a die-hard fan of #Charlos or #lesteppen please ignore the images or skip. The blurred face guy is my OC! Mark Spencer This Is part of my story RACING HEARTS Moments-1 UNSPOKEN CONNECTIONS :

Masterlist : Racing Hearts : VOLUME 1

(Timeperiod : Chapter - 13/14 of VOLUME 1)

Fan Comments:

"I'll sure miss Mark when he leaves."

"Why tf he has to leave… I mean I love Charles' and Carlos' duo, but Mark and Charles were something else." 😢

"I miss his days in Ferrari… can't believe it was only for half a season."

"Dude came for half a season and stole everyone's heart. It's not fair." 💔

"Damn, it would be tough for Charles to let him go. I can already see him missing Mark like crazy." 😞

"I know Charles will miss Mark even though he acts like he hates him. Their connection was so obvious."

"Their friendship was so real. I’ll cry when Mark leaves. Like, they're the definition of what real teammates should be."

"Mark was the breath of fresh air Ferrari didn't know they needed."

"Mark and Charles had such natural chemistry… I can't believe it's already over."

"Mark being in Ferrari for that short time was the best decision. Charles was so much happier around him."

"Whoe thought Mark and Charles would have this kind of bond? I’m still not over them."

*"Can we talk about how soft Charles looks when Mark’s around? Like, he’s *smitten." 🥺

Masterlist : Racing Hearts : VOLUME 2 (Before Chapter 19)

(Timeperiod- Before Chapter 19 of VOLUME 2)

Fan Comments:

"Thank god Mark stayed in F1. I can't imagine the grid without him."

"Hiring Mark in Red Bull was the best decision ever. He’s a game changer." 💥

"I thought they were only friends because they were teammates… turns out I was so wrong." 😭

*"The chemistry between these two is *crazy. Even though they’re on different teams, their bond is so obvious."

"They’ve been through so much together, and you can tell that no matter what team they’re on, they’re always supporting each other."

"I’m just here for their friendship. It’s so wholesome." ❤️

"I swear, every time Mark wins, I get so happy for him… especially when I see Charles supporting him like this."

*"Mark and Charles are the duo. Even when they’re not teammates, they make it work. Legends."* 🏆

"They really proved that being on different teams doesn’t change the bond they share. I love that."

"The way Charles helped Mark with his helmet 😩 so soft, they’re the definition of true friendship."

"Their respect for each other is unreal. I love how they can celebrate each other’s victories despite the rivalry."

"Their fist bump just says it all. No matter what, they’ll always have each other’s backs." ✊

*"Why do they have so much chemistry? Like, they’re literally *rivals* but still act like they’ve been best friends forever."*

(Timeperiod-After Chapter 19)

Fan Comments:

"I can't get over how different Charles looks this season. He’s so much more relaxed and genuinely happy. Mark’s really done wonders for him." ❤️

"That look Charles is giving Mark is everything. You can tell he’s just so happy Mark’s back in Ferrari." 😍

*"Mark being back in Ferrari is everything. You can see how much it means to Charles, and I’m here for it."

"Look at Charles looking at Mark like that. I think the 'just friends' thing is getting harder to believe." 🤭

"I’ve missed seeing Charles this carefree. I’m so glad Mark’s back to help him smile again."

"You can see it in Charles’ eyes. He’s so in love with Mark, and I can’t blame him." 💖

"These two are truly the dream team. Just look at them celebrating together. They deserve all the happiness." 🏆

"The way Charles is just staring at Mark… he’s completely smitten. You can’t hide that kind of love, even with a glance." 😌

"Mark coming back to Ferrari was the best decision. Charles looks like a completely different person—so much happier." 🌟

"I’ve never seen Charles so genuinely happy and relaxed. Mark’s good for him, like really good." 🥰

"Mark and Charles' dynamic is just so different this season. They look so comfortable with each other."

"The way Charles is listening to Mark is so soft. He’s definitely hanging onto every word, and I can’t get enough of it."

"They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. The way Charles looks at Mark is the most obvious thing ever." 💘

"I can’t even imagine how happy these two are now. Mark’s back, and Charles has his smile back."

*"Their chemistry is unreal. I love that they’re not just teammates; they’re *best friends."

"Charles doesn’t even try to hide it. Every glance, every smile—he’s all about Mark."

Fan Comments:

*"Those lingering touches are *everything. You can just feel the chemistry between them through a simple hand on the thigh." 😍

*"Mark's hand on Charles’ thigh… I’m not okay. They’ve got a whole unspoken language between them."*

*"Look at how Charles is staring at Mark's hand on his thigh… like he’s *memorizing* the feeling. Ugh, I’m obsessed."* 💖

"The way Mark rests his hand on Charles’ bum… just… wow. They don’t even try to hide it anymore." 😏

"That hug. You can tell these two are more than just friends. They’re home to each other." 🌙

*"The more I see these little moments, the more I’m convinced these two are *meant* to be."*

"I honestly can’t get over how much they touch each other. It’s like they can’t stop."

*"Can you *feel* the love through these pictures? I swear, these two are so in tune with each other."* 😍

"Look at Charles' face when Mark’s hand is on his thigh. He’s looking at it like it’s the most precious thing in the world."

*"It’s the way Mark holds Charles close, his arms around him like he never wants to let go. *That’s* the kind of love I want to see."*

"Their hands are constantly in contact. It’s like they don’t need to say anything, they just get each other."

*"Those photos are *too* soft. You can see they’re both falling for each other, one touch at a time."* 💓

"When did Mark become this touchy-feely? I’m not complaining, but wow, he really can't keep his hands off Charles, huh?"

"I honestly can't take how intimate these moments are. It's just the little things that show how deep their connection really is."

(These took forever to edit 😭😭😭😭)

Comment and share your thoughts and remarks!!!

Moments-3

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